


Gun metal grey ring fingers

by NovemberWings



Series: Desus Drabbles [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Belting, Comforting Jesus, Comforting Paul, Crying Daryl, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugging, Hurt Daryl, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Past Child Abuse, emotional daryl, painting nails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberWings/pseuds/NovemberWings
Summary: Daryl finds nail polish out on a run.





	

Daryl sat on the sofa with his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the collection on the coffee table in front of him in deliberation. He and Rick had been out on a run and had come across a farm house. Rick foraged in the kitchen and Daryl had gone upstairs. He had found himself rooting through a teenage girl’s chest of draws in a room of light blue and black. In one of the draws he found a bag, and in the bag was a selection of about 20 different nail polish colours. He had hesitated for a few minutes before forcing it right to the bottom of his bag, and walking downstairs, claiming he had found nothing.

Now he sat in his house, all 23 nail polishes lined up in front of him. The girl obviously wasn’t your typical pink-loving teen. Most of the colours were darker, although a few were lighter colours- like rose and white. But Daryl loved the darker colours- the blacks, blues, greys, off white, dark red. There wasn’t any nail polish remover but he had used alcohol back in the day and he had a bottle of vodka under his sink. 

He let out a breath before standing and walking to the window glancing outside, paranoid, but he didn’t see anyone there. The last time he had been caught painting his nails he had one of his worst belt lickings ever; he had almost passed out on the floor. He walked back over to the couch and sat back, staring at the colours for a few more seconds. His eyes locked on a smooth shiny black nail polish for a few seconds before he leant forward and grabbed it in his large calloused hands.

He held the small bottle and shook, mixing the polish around after being left for years. He twisted the lid and pulled out the little brush, putting the bottle on the table. He held the polish covered bristles above his thumb nail, with a shaking hand. The smell intoxicated him and he waited for his hand to shake a little less.

Just as he was about to paint his first streak across his bitten dirty nail he heard the door open. He quickly put the wand back into the nail polish bottle, but didn’t have time to screw it shut and leant back.

Jesus walked into the living room and saw Jesus on the couch, his face breaking into a smile. As he made his way over to the couch he slipped his gloves off, as he was wearing his usual trench coat and beanie attire, and placed them in the coat’s pocket. He slipped the coat off and draped it over the sofa before flopping next to a shaken Daryl on the couch. He pulled his beanie off and threw it on the table, not even acknowledging the nail polish.  
“Hey, hey Dixon. How are we?” His breathing was quickened and he realised Jesus must have been running or doing some work, and had either finished or come in for a break.  
“M’fine.” He replied, wanting to be away from this but reluctant to walk about in case it looked specious. Paul cocked his head the side and turned to sit with his legs bent under him, so he was facing Daryl.  
“You sure? You seem more… annoyed I guess. Not sure if annoyed is the word though.” He spoke as if trying to figure out a puzzle. He really was though, sometimes Daryl could be an enigma.  
“Naw, I’m fine.” Daryl said again, but harsher than before trying to indicate that he wanted to drop it or change the subject. But he knew Paul wasn’t easy to sway- damn bastard. Jesus caught the tone and frowned a little- clearly not believing him, but suddenly his attention was drawn away from Daryl when he noticed the coloured bottle.  
“Awwww, cool. You got nail polish!” He exclaimed, spinning so he could face the nail polish instead of Daryl, looking over the colours. “Not many bright colours though,” Jesus observed, “why’d you get them?” Daryl suddenly clammed up, not knowing what to say. After a few seconds of silence, Jesus turned his head away from the nail polishes to look at Daryl. Daryl could only stare back Jesus in panic before managing to squeak out;  
“Thought, tha women might like to paint their nails.” He muttered, and Jesus’ smile grew a little.  
“I’d fuckin’ love to see the day when Tara either wears makeup, nail polish or a dress,” He let out a laugh, “That girl is the picture perfect stereotypical lesbian, down to the plaid and everything.” And Daryl couldn’t help but let a tiny reluctant smile find his face when imagining said lesbian in a dress.  
Jesus turned his attention back to the nail polish before reaching forward and picking up a dark blue, almost green, nail varnish, and turning it over in hand seeing it from all angles.  
“I like this one, what do you think?” He asked holding it up to Daryl’s eye sight with almost no shame in his voice, Daryl’s mouth fell open.  
“Err, yhea. It’s nice.” And Jesus let out a little laugh making Daryl go red, had he fallen for a trick?  
“You don’t sound convinced, go on the Daryl, which one do you like?” Daryl felt his face heat up not knowing what answer he was supposed to give to this question. Jesus seemed to noticed his inner struggle. “You don’t have to wear the nail varnish Daryl I’m only asking you what colour you like.” Jesus’ face had a calming smile on it, like always. Daryl reached forward with a trembling arm and picked up the black one from the table, by the bottle, hoping Paul wouldn’t notice the lid was off.  
“Oooh, that’s nice, little dark for my taste, but I think it would suit you.” Jesus said with a glittering smile making Daryl flush with embarrassment again. He put the bottle down on the table, suddenly feeling angry. He stud up, barely registering that Jesus flinched back from his sudden movement.

“Why are ya makin’ fun of me?” He asked annoyed, “You ask me a question, I answer tha’ god damn question, and ya make fun of me, what the hell.” Daryl started to walk away but Jesus grabbed his arm.  
“I wasn’t making fun of you at all. I think it would look good on you. I wouldn’t make fun of you for something like wearing nail polish.” His words and voice were honest.  
“I don’t wear fuckin’ nail polish!” He snapped and spun round to Jesus who released Daryl’s arm and held his hands up in a placating gesture. Daryl was hurt, he didn’t think Paul would make fun of him for something like this.  
“I’m not saying you do, I’m saying if you did it wouldn’t be a problem and that it wouldn’t matter to me.” Jesus said slowly, before continuing in a smaller voice. “I used to wear nail polish, my boyfriend and I used to paint each other nails, there’s nothing wrong with boys painting their nails.” Daryl felt disbelief floor his system at two things. 1) Paul was gay. 2) He wasn’t alone.

 

He stared at Paul, and he started to get uncomfortable. Jesus stood up slipping the bottle of green-blue nail polish into his trouser pocket, before backing away to the door, still facing Daryl.  
“I’ll let you digest the information you’ve just heard, it’s okay Daryl. It’s okay.” With that Paul left going up to his room and leaving Daryl to think.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was around 9 o’clock and people who weren’t on guard or work duty had retired to their homes to spend an hour with their family before sleeping. Daryl had thought about what Jesus shad said while he hunted in the nearby forest.

He had come home and showered, and gotten dressed. He went into the living room and saw all the bottles of nail polish still on the table, he stood next to the table and looked at them for a minute of two before sighing and saying aloud, “fuck it.”

He turned and walked up the stairs. He turned left and knocked on Jesus’ bedroom door. It took a few seconds but Jesus opened the door in bed clothes. He was wearing an oversized hard rock café t-shirt and grey sweat pants. He stood in the doorway the light in his room on, the radio on quietly in the back ground.  
“Hey.” Jesus smiled crossing his arms casually over his chest.  
“Hey.” Daryl replied his mouth suddenly dry not knowing what to say.  
“Is there something you need?” Jesus asked in a way where there was no pressure behind the words.  
“I-I… err… wanted ta ask, I we could, if you could…” He trailed off, not able to find the words. Jesus’ gaze turned sympathetic. Suddenly, he held out his hand to Daryl and with his palm facing the floor.

His nails were painted the blue-green colour, they were really nice, with smooth brush strokes that came from practiced hands.  
“I painted my nails, what do you think?” He asked Daryl, whose mouth had gone dry in shock, that the other man could be so open, and he had to remind himself that people here were different – better- accepting. That people like Tara, Denise, Aaron, Erik and Jesus could be open about who they were. He noiselessly nodded in answer to Jesus’ question. “Do you want me to paint your nails, I’m very good, If I do say so myself.” He let out a little laugh at his own question. Daryl nodded, noiselessly, afraid of this uncharted territory. “Okay, go get as many colours as you carry and bring them up here.” Jesus smiled and walked back to the bed sitting down cross-legged in the centre of the queens bed and continued reading a half finished book.  
Daryl followed his instructions, and went downstairs and grabbed as many colours as he could hold safely, including the black he liked, before making his way up to Paul’ room.

He walked into the Paul’s room where Jesus put down the book and patted the bed by him.  
“C’mere.” And Daryl did as he was told dropping the nail polishes in a pile, loving the sound of the glass hitting gently against the other bottles. He sat where Jesus had previously patted. Jesus started rifling through the colours. He pulled out the black and handed it to Daryl. “You like that one right?”  
“Yes.” Daryl replied his voice quiet. Jesus took it from his hand and shook it, before removing the brush and putting the bottle on his bedside table.  
“Gimmie your hand, and don’t look so worried.” He laughed taking Daryl’s hand. He spread Daryl’s fingers apart before resting Daryl’s palm on his own thigh. “Relax, Daryl you’re in safe hands. You’re gonna love your nails after this.”

Daryl looked down and watched in awe as Jesus painted his nails. After about ten minutes Jesus had finished painting his nails, all of his fingers except his ring fingers, black with his ring fingers being a gun metal grey. Jesus carefully picked up his hand and blew on his nails, and Daryl watched fascinated by the man. He felt his eyes well up, this is how life should be. Not with his Dad beating him but accepting, where two men can paint their nails and be there for one another. It hit Daryl like brick. He was happy.

Suddenly, overcome with emotion tears welled up in Daryl’s eyes and spilled over his cheeks as he looked at Daryl. He pulled in a sharp breath and Jesus looked up at Daryl, his smile fading when he saw Daryl’s tears.  
“Daryl, what’s wrong?” He asked concerned and Daryl just reached forward and pulled Jesus into a tight hug. Jesus stilled in shock for a few seconds before hugging back gently, and rubbing his back, shushing, letting Daryl cry into his shoulder.  
“Thank you, Paul.” He spoke quietly, and Daryl felt him smile a little.  
“It’s okay, I’ll never judge you Daryl. You’re safe with me, I promise. Come on, you’re okay.” Jesus reassured him quietly. They sat for a while in silence like that, and Daryl let out a little yawn, exhausted from crying.  
“Come on let’s lie down.” Jesus suggested, and Daryl nodded, suddenly exhausted and not willing to fight. He let Paul lead him until he was lying down on the covers. Jesus got out the bed and turned the light off, lying down next to him, and that’s where they slept. 

This was only the beginning for them.


End file.
